


now may be all we have

by lost_inclarity



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_inclarity/pseuds/lost_inclarity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>canon, post drawing scene, pre maybe someday scene, domestic clexa to help deal with the upcoming crazy known as tonight’s episode [3x07].</p><p>basically, lexa leaves for her duties and returns to find clarke asleep with her trigedasleng book in hand. she tries to quietly tuck clarke in but instead accidentally wakes her up and even though it’s 2 in the morning and lexa is exhausted from her work, she ends up teaching clarke all about writing in trigedasleng.</p><p>somehow it ends up with clarke on her lap, and lexa finally learns just how strong love can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now may be all we have

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @gaygasps.

“I shall discreetly deliver your message to Queen Luna at once.”

With a small but firm nod, the Commander dismisses the Floukru ambassador. When doors close after the man’s swift departure, Lexa turns to Clarke with her hands still clasped behind her back. She studies the blonde in silence, her gaze adorned by a distinct softness that only Clarke can draw out. Her lips twitch, her tongue swiping away their dryness, while her eyes trace every inch of the Clarke’s face.

“You worry too much, Clarke.” Lexa breaks the silence after several minutes of the other staring stubbornly down at the plans they have drafted out on scrolls.

A smile teases at the corners of Lexa’s lips as she shifts her hands to her front and intertwines them loosely. She is rarely this relaxed so early in the morning when there are plenty more duties to attend to. Yet there she is, shoulders slack and guard down, in the presence of Clarke. She is aware of this effect Clarke has, and oddly, her smile grows ever so slightly at that knowledge.

She turns towards the balcony stretching over Polis, the city she breathes for, and conceals her smile despite of the scare joke that is about to escape her lips. “One day, you will have hair much like Kane’s.”

A quiet gasp behind her cracks the stiff, proud look Lexa wears whenever she oversees Polis’ daily buzz below her balcony, and just like that, her smile sprouts again. She glances over her shoulder back at Clarke and catches the look of surprise plastered across the blonde’s face.

And she waits.

Lexa waits for a characteristic retort from Clarke but she receives none, even after a full minute. Clarke’s mouth remains hanging wide open, and it is more than because of the joke Lexa spills. The morning sun gleaming off Lexa’s braided hair, reflecting the forest’s soul in her eyes, and dancing across her luscious lips has Clarke stunned and rendered speechless.

Clarke may have lived in the sky, but she has never seen an angel until now.

Clearly amused by the girl’s silence, Lexa returns to the inside of her room. She struts over to Clarke’s side, her smile fading gradually as she tries to calm what she perceives as unease from Clarke.

“Peace takes time. Our time might not last long, but time itself is infinite.” Her voice drops, weighed down by a truth that haunts them both. “Peace will come, Clarke, someday.”

Clarke takes a breath, shifting back to reality and meets Lexa’s gaze with an answer surging up to the tip of her tongue. _Maybe peace will never come. Maybe it’s okay if we don’t have peace. Maybe, you are my peace._

But before she could process her thoughts, before she could swallow them down and come up with an alternate, more _acceptable_ response, the Commander’s doors pivot open as Titus strides in.

“Eleven ambassadors have gathered, Heda. They ask for your presence.” Titus glances at Clarke, lips tightening and brows creasing not quite subtly.

Lexa nods and pulls back her shoulders, her hands fastening behind her once again. She marches after Titus as he heads out of the room, but is stopped by Clarke’s hushed call. “Lexa-”

She purses her lips and lifts her gaze onto Clarke’s, and her heart jolts at the vulnerable way Clarke whispers her name, the vulnerable way Clarke stares back at her like a lost child. A child she should have been if not for the war she is forced into.

There is nothing more Lexa wishes she could do in this moment, than to reach out and wrap her hand around Clarke’s; to show Clarke a part of her belongs to her even if her people come first; to show Clarke her heart aches for her and she is not alone in this harsh world; to show Clarke it is okay to be weak, because she is weak for her too. Instead, all she says is, “I will be back, Clarke.”

____________________________

Lexa greets her patrols with a respectful nod on the way to her room. It is after sundown and she no longer bears the weight of her shoulder guard. Rather, she is dressed down in a simple shirt and dark jeans brought to her after training with the Nightbloods. They wrap snugly around her curves and she feels silly, like she once did with Costia, when she glances down and smiles slightly at the way her collar dips down in _V_ that casually flaunts her figure.

She promised Clarke she will come back to her and although it is late, she intends to fulfil her promise. Quietly, she enters her room, half expecting to find it empty and half expecting to be informed that Clarke has returned to rest in her own room.

Instead, she is pleasantly surprised when she finds Clarke curled up on her couch, asleep and with a book almost sliding out of her hand. She smiles to herself at the sight of Clarke’s lips parted with what might be drool gathering at the edge.

It _is_ late, and perhaps it is better to let her rest, Lexa decides. She skirts around the couch and moves towards her bed to retrieve the blanket. As she spreads it over Clarke softly, she notices the cover of the book.

Trigedasleng.

It is hers, hers since she was twelve. In fact, it is _the_ book she studied from  _at_ twelve.

Lexa blinks in confusion, and reaches to carefully lift it out of Clarke’s hand. However, Clarke’s sleep is much lighter than she expects (mostly because she can’t rest properly without seeing Lexa first). Before Lexa could step away _as if_ she isn’t guilty of admiring the way Clarke’s lashes flutter in her sleep, the blonde snaps out of her dream and sits up, startling Lexa (although she does not let it show).

Lexa thinks she should come up with an excuse. She thinks she ought to explain herself despite the fact that this is _her_ room. The Commander of 12 clans panics for some reason and she knows this is because Clarke tears away her armour. She is grounded by her duties as Heda, but Clarke strips away the pain and loneliness of it. Clarke makes her feel like the child she once was, running through the forest full of laughter with her lungs filled with love.

“I hope it is okay that I stayed.” Clarke stares up at Lexa, biting her lip lightly for a second before Lexa’s eyes lock onto hers.   

“You can read Trigedasleng?” Lexa asks instead, gulping down the way her heart shakes because Clarke _stayed_. She stayed when she didn’t have to, she stayed waiting for her to return. She stayed not for her people, but for _her_.

“I try.” Clarke breaks their gaze and looks down at her hands that are lost in the blanket, fidgeting with _God knows what_ because Lexa certainly isn’t paying attention to anything but Clarke’s sheepish smile.

“It’s interesting.” Clarke adds, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. She tries to convince herself that she is learning the grounder culture for survival, for the sake of uniting Skaikru and the 12 clans, for peace. She tries but she _knows_ , she’s trying because of _Lexa_. She’s trying because this is Lexa’s _world_ , this is everything Lexa lives for, this is everything Lexa sacrificed her for.

This is everything that makes their loneliness worth it.

And the smile Lexa gives back is worth the war in Clarke’s heart. It doesn’t hurt anymore, the decision Lexa made at the mountain. Clarke still drowns in guilt, but no longer in hate.

“But it’s also hard. They’re talking about healers here? I don’t really- the words-” Clarke looks back up at Lexa, and finds that Lexa’s gaze has not left her at all.

“Are you asking for my help, Clarke kom Skaikru?” A hint of amusement shines through Lexa’s calm voice, almost smugly.

Clarke nearly groans in response. It is hard to counter someone despite how much you want to wipe their smirk off their face when you want to kiss them even more. And Clarke does groans, internally (Lexa’s lips should not look so heavenly right now).

Reluctantly, she nods and tugs Lexa down onto the couch by her wrist.

Several candles have burnt out (probably after an hour or so but who knows? definitely not Clarke and Lexa), and they are now moulded into one another. At first, it was their shoulders touching lightly, and then slowly, as Lexa reached across to write in the book that is resting on Clarke’s lap, their sides become softly pressed into each other and it stays like that. Neither of them mentions it, but the way their warmth seeps into one another spark fireworks inside their chests.

At some point, Lexa’s focus drifts from the pages to the exposed skin peeking out of Clarke’s shirt, and she has to mentally slap herself in order to snap out of it. She swallows dryly several times but Clarke doesn’t notice it.

However, Lexa does not suffer alone. Clarke gets distracted as well whenever she glances up from the book. She looks up with the intention of looking into Lexa’s eyes for any indication that she is writing incorrectly, but instead, her attention would fall onto Lexa’s lips and unconsciously, she would lick her own.

“So technically, it’s _ei_ not _a?_ ” Clarke asks as her gaze sweeps up to meet Lexa’s, and she becomes painstakingly aware of how close they are.

It has been months, and she’s tired. She’s tired of fighting this gravity that pulls them together, she’s tired of hating the one person who makes her heart beat with something that is more than just pain, she’s tired of fighting the love she can’t deny. She’s tired and she’s ready.

Lexa nods as she flashes a proud smile, scribbling down the full sentence neatly on the book. One day, Clarke will need to hold her own within the coalition, and Lexa is relieved to know she is now more than capable of defending herself beyond verbally voicing her political stance.

She tilts her head when Clarke reaches for her forearm afterwards, and turns it so the inside is facing up. Lexa watches curiously, but quietly, and waits for Clarke to continue.

She is surprised once again when Clarke begins to write on her skin with her fingertip. _I’m ready,_ it reads when Clarke is done.

Lexa reads, and reads it again. The words are now gone but they will forever be imprinted into her. They both stare down at Lexa’s arm, letting the meaning behind this sink in. _I’m not ready, not yet_ , Lexa recalls the way it burned, the way her fallen walls struggled to piece themselves back together.

And it burns again, but this time it burned like it did when she discovered Clarke’s drawing of her. It burns with hope.

Hesitantly, like she fears it is all just a terrible joke, Lexa slowly looks up into Clarke’s ocean eyes. She drowns in those eyes with her mouth slightly agape, lost in the pounding of her heart that is threatening to break through her ribs.

Clarke’s gaze bores right back into Lexa’s with her brows lightly knitted together as she awaits anxiously.

After a good minute or so, it becomes clear to Clarke that Lexa is too dazed by her confession to respond. She smiles, completely free from the burden of her feelings for once, because finally, she can stop battling herself.

“It’s okay.” Clarke turns fully towards Lexa, her breath draping over Lexa’s lips as she whispers softly. “It’s okay now.” _Because now may be all we have._ Now they are no longer commander and ambassador, now, they are simply two girl throbbing for one another’s soul.

They can free each other from their pain and _right_   _now_ , they can love each other.

Clarke’s nose brushes against Lexa’s as she lifts her chin, and that is all the signal she needs.

Lexa drops her gaze onto Clarke’s lips before they shut lightly as she leans down, her lips meeting Clarke’s in a breathless kiss.

The kiss is soft and tentative as they relearn the taste of each other’s lips after death has kissed away the life in them. The kiss is slow but refreshing as they rediscover each other after the distance the mountain has set between them.

The kiss is giving.

The way their lips slide over one another, sucking lightly with the occasional nips, raise tsunamis and earthquakes in their hearts and steal their breaths away. And yet, still, it gives. It gives the both of them peace and soothes the pain they have been bearing before they have known of their love.

And it continues to give. It reignites their soul as the kiss grows rougher and more desperate. Their lips press together much harder, muffling pants and groans between them as Clarke’s hand drops from Lexa’s forearm to her hand. She laces their fingers together and squeezes Lexa’s hand firmly as she grazes her teeth over Lexa’s lower lip.

However, Lexa instinctively does not give in easily. She catches Clarke’s lip between her teeth a moment later, and in return, flicks the tip of her tongue over it lightly before pulling back to catch her breath.

She rests with her forehead against Clarke’s, eyes still shut as though she is afraid she will wake up and discover this is all just a dream if she opens her eyes. Her other hand hovers in the air, and then hesitantly rests somewhere between Clarke’s hip and chest. She craves for more, for more than just a taste of peace, or passion. She craves every inch of Clarke; every smile, every breath, every moan. Every scar, every bruise, every bit of her strong soul.

“I wanted to hate you.” Clarke breathes out, whispering barely audibly as she leans into Lexa who stiffens, dead cold, into ice, at the spoken truth.

Lexa had always known, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less when she hears it aloud.

“I wanted to, but now,” Clarke pauses, and Lexa can hear her take in a sharp breath as she swallows a sob, voice breaking, “all I want is _you_.”  

Lexa’s head spins with all that is crashing into her heart, the pain, and the relief. She tries to find her words, to offer Clarke a piece of herself too, but her last bit of strength falls when another form of it takes over.

She understands since the day Clarke saved her from the _pauna_ , but she truly feels the magnitude now. Her body trembles with strength, the strength from love and the desire that comes with it.

The trembling only grows stronger when Clarke reaches for her hand on her waist and guides it to her heart. “All I want is you, and it is okay now.” _I’m okay now._

Lexa’s hands wraps delicately around Clarke’s breast and slowly, she opens her eyes to meet Clarke’s. “I want you too.” She whispers back, instead of the _I love you_ her heart is bursting with because love is too heavy, too strong. She fears if she ever says it out loud, she will never be able to swallow it back down and return to her duties, _she will never be able to let Clarke go_.

She flinches when the warmth of Clarke’s breath leaves her space, her eyes widening and searching for Clarke immediately. Thankfully, the warmth returns a moment later when Clarke shifts onto her lap and straddles her.

“Then take me.” Clarke says dangerously huskily under her breath as she cups Lexa’s cheeks in her hands. “ _Take me, Lexa._ ”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @gaygasps.


End file.
